He’s My Baby
My youngest son aged 26 complains when I call him a baby. Let’s face it. He will always be just that to me–MY BABY. I remember giving birth to him 25 years ago au naturale at home. It was not supposed to be that way. In fact on the evening in question I went to the obstetrician, told him something was happening. Anyway he insisted I was not going to deliver for another six weeks and sent me back home.
The pains persisted. I insisted to hubby I was in labor. He told me that I was wrong and went to bed. Two hours later I delivered at home. Months later I got the doctor’s bills and the hospital bills including the labor and delivery room ones. I left that to my insurance company.
Baby shower invitations never got out. Instead our family and friends joined us at his christening celebration. AND LA is always going to be my baby. That’s it. I am not giving in.